


When We All Fall Asleep Where Do We Go?

by dyingpoet



Series: peter parker deserves happiness [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, One Shot, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Has A Heart, peter just has a nasty ass flashback to The Building, poor bruce just wants to help, the ptsd aspect isnt r e a l l y the focus tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Peter read about sleep paralysis once with MJ, but it's nothing compared to the real thing





	When We All Fall Asleep Where Do We Go?

**Author's Note:**

> things i did do: write this  
> things i did not do: study for the ap psych exam tomorrow :^)

The first time it happened, Peter hadn’t really been aware that it was happening. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, barely conscious, but he wanted water. When he tried to push himself up though, nothing happened, he couldn’t  _ move _ .

It was really late and he was really tired so the whole memory of that night was hazy, but he wasn’t scared when it happened. All he knew was he woke up the next morning feeling groggier than normal, but fine. It even took him a minute to remember the whole thing even happened, and he honestly wasn’t fully convinced the whole thing hadn’t been a dream until the next night. 

That time was worse. 

It was Thursday and he had a history paper due the next day that he’d barely started. So, he ended up staying up until about 3am working on the thing. Which sucked, but it wore him out.

He remembered laying down, and remembered starting to fall asleep, and then he didn’t. It was like he closed his eyes and started to doze off and a switch flipped. And he couldn’t move. At all.

His first thought was that something was holding him down, and then he swore he saw a shadow in the dark and that changed the thought into something  _ was _ holding him down. Slamming his eyes shut he tried to focus on the fact that it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. MJ had shown him something, an article, once about sleep paralysis, and this had to be it. 

That knowledge didn’t help him though, because it was cool to read about but now he was alone in the dark and he couldn’t move. There was something on his chest and he could have sworn there were voices coming from somewhere, and he knew it wasn’t real but it  _ felt _ real. 

And familiar. Once he realized that, it really went downhill because he was back under the building. He was back under the building and there wasn’t any air and he couldn’t move because of all the weight, and the weight was  _ there _ , in the dark with him, he could  _ feel _ it.

It was a nightmare, an actual living nightmare and if he could have cried in that state he would have. But instead he was stuck like that for what felt like hours. Maybe it was that long, it could have been minutes though, seconds even. All he knew was that it was dark, and he was trapped, just like before. 

What he remembered most clearly was when he finally snapped out of it.

It was much too dark and he shot up in bed, gasping for air because he could finally feel his chest move again and  _ clawing _ at his chest because the weight still felt like it was there. Pushing down on him. Crushing him. 

At that point he really did break down, full on. FRIDAY had tried to get him to call Mr. Stark after he spent a solid ten minutes sobbing into the blanket, too scared to go turn the light on because the room didn’t feel safe anymore. He’d told her not to, begged her not to, and she didn’t.

In hindsight he wished she would have, because that was three days ago. Three days of catching an hour or two of sleep before waking up in a panic, either afraid that he would wake up trapped, or having a half second of not being able to move before it faded and he could breathe again.

It was a living hell, really, and the lack of sleep and panic  _ about _ the lack of sleep was starting to show on his face. At least that was what he got from Tony. 

“Hey Peter, over here.”

Fingers were snapping in front of his face and Peter flinched back and blinked at Tony for a few seconds when it looked like he was expecting him to say something.

He cleared his throat and rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck before speaking. “Oh, sorry, did-did you-”

“Are you okay?” Tony deadpanned, a frown taking over his face as he leaned back in his chair across from Peter. “You’ve been a little out of it the last couple of days.”

At that Peter sat up a little straighter and gripped the table to try and hide the shake in his hands. He didn’t want Tony to know about the sleeping thing, he had bigger problems. 

“Oh yeah, sorry, it’s just school stuff.”

“School stuff, huh,” Tony echoed, not looking remotely convinced. “What kind of school stuff?”

“Just stuff, it’s really not that interesting-”

“Humor me.”

Peter opened his mouth to stutter out god knows what when his phone on the table vibrated. Latching onto it like a lifeline he picked it up before even fully reading the notification.

“Oh that’s May, I really gotta go.”

He almost tripped over his feet with how fast he stood up, and he was very aware of Tony’s eyes on his back as he swung on his backpack and started quickly for the door.

“That didn’t really sound like the text notification, kid,” Tony called, eyebrows raised when Peter turned to look at him.

There was actually that look of veiled concern in his eyes too, and he was tapping his fingers in that way Pepper made fun of him for doing when he got nervous. Guilt felt like a bitch, but he couldn’t have this conversation right now. 

He cleared his throat and quickly flashed his phone in Tony’s direction. “Changed the sound, I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Stark!”

Peter was halfway to the elevators before Tony could respond, and by the time he got in one his head was spinning. Leaning back against the wall as the doors closed he let out a sigh. 

“I really need to get some Nyquil or something FRIDAY.”

_ “Would you like me to ask Dr. Banner if he has any on hand?” _

Peter shook his head and tried to regain a sense of balance as the elevator came to a stop. “Nope, it’s fine,” he answered.

The elevator doors started to open and Peter pushed himself off the back wall. The tiredness was starting to hit hard, he could feel his legs start to get heavier and heavier as the seconds passed.

_ “I’m sure Dr. Banner would be able to get some if you needed it.” _

“I’m sure I could.”

Peter, whose eyes had been trained to the floor as he tried to get a solid grasp on the whole ‘one foot in front of the other’ concept, gasped a little out loud and took a quick step back as Bruce walked onto the elevator. His senses were slowing, they did that if he got tired enough.

“Hi, Dr. Banner,” Peter said as he started for the open door. If anyone was going to see through him it was going to be Bruce; it was sort of his job. “I was just heading home.”

A hand grabbed his wrist though and Peter bit back a groan, it would seem weirder if he tried to get away.

“FRIDAY said you needed me to get something?” Bruce asked, eyes looking over Peter in that way he always did whenever he walked into the medbay. It felt clinical, and Peter fought back the urge to pull away.

Rocking back on his heels, Peter shook his head quickly. Sam had told him something about the right amount of eye contact to make if you were trying to lie, and he had a feeling he was making too much. 

“No, uh, I was just asking about, um-”

_ “He was requesting Nyquil, and I let him know that you would most likely be able to get it if he needed it.” _

FRIDAY’s voice echoed in the elevator, which had closed and started it’s ascent already, leaving Peter groggy and trapped. 

Bruce tilted his head and squinted a little at Peter before he spoke. “Do you feel a cold coming on? You don’t look sick at all.”

“Well, I actually-”

The elevator door opened again and Peter cut off as Tony walked on, eyes widening as the billionaire caught sight of him. “Oh, hi Mr. Stark.”

“Hey Tony,” Bruce said as he gestured to Peter, “has he been acting sick to you? Because FRIDAY said he asked for Nyquil but he doesn’t have any visible symptoms.”

Tony raised his eyebrows at that, looking at Peter for a long moment before saying, “FRIDAY stop the elevator.”

“Stopping.”

The elevator came to a surprisingly cushioned stop and Peter took a step back. Being trapped in a tiny box while being forced to talk about his devastating sleep paralysis wasn’t really what he was feeling when he was on an hour of sleep from the night before. Tony didn’t care about that though.

“Okay what’s going on Pete?” he asked, arms crossed as he gave the kid a once over. “I know you’re not sick, and even if you were it’s not like your body could actually process Nyquil, so I don’t know why the hell you’d want that anyway.  _ And _ you’ve been acting weird and spacey for days, so just spill.”

Peter looked from Tony to Bruce, who was looking more and more like he’d walked into something a little over his head, but also concerned. The guilt resurfaced again.

“I haven’t been sleeping great,” Peter mumbled out after a pause. “I’m just tired.”

Bruce started to say something when Tony held up a hand to cut him off. 

“Okay, well you’re  _ always _ tired, I’ve seen you get six hours and be bouncing off the walls the next day. I mean, I know kids drink Nyquil or whatever to get  _ high _ but I didn’t even think that would work with your metabolism-”

“No!” Peter blurted out, the conversation was really changing directions quickly, “just--god no, why would I even do that? Y’know what, no, it doesn’t even matter-”

“It  _ clearly _ does if you’re this stressed out about it,” Tony said with an edge to his voice, temper coming out as Peter got more and more distressed.

Poor Bruce was just looking between the two of them like he was at a tennis match, he wasn’t even getting a word in edgewise. 

“It’s stupid,” Peter said, voice wobbling a bit at the end and he felt a stab of shame as Tony’s face almost instantly softened. “I don’t want to bother you with normal problems when you already have enough going on.”

“Maybe I could--”

“Shh, Bruce,” Tony said, cutting off the doctor again and getting an agitated sigh in response, which he ignored. “Kid, you’re not bothering me if you talk about a problem, this bothers me more.”

Peter took a few breaths and nodded, his head was buzzing a little bit from all the talking and the light bouncing off of the elevator walls. He really did need some sleep.

“I’ve been getting sleep paralysis,” he said quietly, looking from Tony to the floor and then pretty much everywhere else. “And it’s really not that bad, it was just this one time where it was intense and I felt like I was trapped under that building again, y’know? Because it really felt exactly the same as that.And I couldn’t move or breath and I was hearing voices and it was so  _ scary _ , I just-”

Peter’s voice cracked and he cut off, heart racing and tears welling up despite himself. 

“Oh shit, hey, hey, hey,” Tony said softly, walking forward and tentatively wrapping his arms around Peter, who hugged back tighter than he’d like to admit. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be fine.”

Peter didn’t even have the energy to say anything back, or the mindset to feel embarrassed that he was crying into Iron Man’s shirt while the Hulk awkwardly looked on. 

Struggling to compose himself, he took a few hiccupy breaths before pulling back and wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, eyes trained to the floor as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

Bruce’s voice answered back instead of Tony’s, and Peter looked up meekly at him as he spoke. 

“You don’t need to be sorry, that’s scary stuff,” he said softly, “and if it’s keeping you from sleeping--”

Peter nodded vigorously and Bruce chuckled.

“I can make something that’ll help you fall asleep better.”

Content with that answer, Peter looked at Tony, who looked strangely stricken. When he saw Peter looking at him he cleared his throat roughly.

“I used to get that kinda stuff, after, y’know,” he said, sounding gruff. He bit his lip and looked at Peter thoughtfully before continuing, “Don’t ever think that that kind of thing isn’t important, okay?”

Some kind of nerve had been struck, and Peter nodded.

Tony looked at him, definitely catching the way he was still breathing in broken, shallow breaths, and pulled him in for a hug again.

“Okay, you’re fine, it’s gonna be fine.”

Peter nodded into his shirt, trying to even out his breaths and pulling back shakily again once he did. 

“Okay FRIDAY, you can send it back,” Tony said as he stepped back and a silence came over the three of them. 

“Got it.”

The elevator started moving up again, coming to a quick stop and opening up into the common area the Avengers shared. Clint and Bucky were the only ones there at the moment, both of them looking over from their spots on the couch as the group of them entered.

“What’s up guys?” Clint asked, lightly eyes narrowing and moving over Peter rapidly as he walked toward the couch. He still looked like he’d just been crying. “We miss anything?”

Peter looked up at Tony, not really knowing how to answer that, and relaxed a little as he ruffled his hair and pushed him lightly toward the couch.

“Nah, just intellectual conversation, I wouldn’t expect you to be able to keep up,” Tony quipped. 

Clint flipped him off and Peter caught Tony’s eye as he started walking away with Bruce, no doubt to work on the sleeping medication for him, and got a half smile in return.

“Watch the kid,” he called as he and Bruce turned the corner.

A hand grabbed the back of Peter’s collar and pulled him lightly onto the couch, and he yet out a yelp as Clint dragged him to sit between him and Bucky.

“Stark better pay us for babysitting,” Bucky said softly.

Peter gave him an affronted look and he just barely smiled, while Clint barked out a laugh from Peter’s other side.

“Yeah, and give us pizza money, too.”

The two of them already had something on the T.V., and must have picked up on Peter’s silence and the way he was practically sinking into the couch, because they didn’t say anything else. 

And, wedged between two trained assassins, who were dutifully watching cartoons, Peter fell asleep without a hint of fear for the first time in days, and it was a beautiful, heavy, dreamless sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> i actually sorta like this?? i think??? idk???
> 
> hmu w some kudos or comments tho!!! im so very tired!!!


End file.
